Another Kind of Beauty
by Becky Sky
Summary: Thayet and Jonathon, newlyweds, sort through some issues as they lie in bed at night. It's not easy being a foreigner in a strange land, and it's not easy being a king...but love just might conquer all. For all those Jon/Thayet fans I know are out there!


**A/N: For all the Jon/Thayet fans, including me, because there's not enough art or stories of them! Please review!**

**Characters belong to awesome Tamora Pierce. I wish she was me. Or I was her. Err...**

**

* * *

**

**Another Kind of Beauty **

Thayet turned over in bed, propping her head on the back of her arm to observe the man beside her. He lay flat on the sheets, staring up at the canopy of the four-poster bed they shared. His face was pale in the moonlight, flecks of dark hair peppering his cheeks where his stubble grew. She smiled; he'd shaved especially for their wedding day.

Now, it was night, and neither of them made a move to invade the other's space. And when he shifted to face her, she surprised herself by inhaling sharply. His eyes were a piercing blue, and pearls glinted as he smiled at her. It was a sad, uncertain smile, a smile that tugged at her heart.

"This is going to be difficult, isn't it?" she asked softly, her words echoing throughout the quiet room. She winced when he didn't respond, feeling snubbed. "Jonathon?"

There was no answer.

Thayet reined in a sarcastic comment, trying to put herself in his shoes. His love had refused him, and he was now sharing a bed with a foreign princess he barely knew. Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. A shaky sob escaped her throat.

"Thayet?" Now he spoke, concern in his voice. "Are you crying?"

"No," she snapped, whole body trembling with the effort of keeping her tears in check. Jon's arms snaked across the empty space between them, drawing her close. She squeaked, mashed against his chest. His fingers gently explored the planes of her face, caressing her cheekbones, tickling across her eyelashes. She smiled waveringly.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, breath soft and minty against her skin as he snagged her hair. With snarls of curl wrapped around his fingers, he cradled her chin in his hands, forcing them to look in each other's eyes. "So why are you sad?"

Her hands forced themselves between them, fingernails digging into his skin, as though searching for a stronghold as she struggled to find her words. Pressing against his chest, she tried to make him release her, but he held her firmly. "Do you think beauty means happiness?" she asked finally.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him, so much so that her heart throbbed painfully. But no matter who heralded them as man and wife, he didn't belong to her. His heart yearned for another. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, at least, on his part. They were both royal, both attractive, and held a certain amount of desirability for the other.

But for Thayet, lusting for her husband wasn't enough. And having him lust for her wasn't enough either. Any slattern off the street could attain such a thing. But to have the love and respect of her partner- to have him look at her the way she'd seen him look at the Lioness- was her secret desire.

Thayet knew she was a fool. Ducking her head, she broke apart from him, trying to hide more tears. She was supposed to be strong- she was the queen, after all. She'd always been tough, never given to tears. And here she was, crying more than she had in all her twenty years!

_Stop_, she told herself firmly. _You're being pathetic. _Burying her face in her pillows, she stifled the sound of her sobbing.

"No." It'd been so long since she'd asked him that Thayet had almost drifted off to sleep. Now she hauled herself up groggily, blinking at him with a loud yawn.

"Pardon?"

"I said no. Beauty doesn't mean happiness." He was sitting up, staring at her. If she had put herself in his shoes at that moment, she would have been looking at the woman by his side with a mixture of enlightenment and hope. She would be forgiving the past, and seeing the future in the glint of intelligence reflected in her own eyes. She would be feeling so overwhelmed with sudden realization of love and desire her jaw would drop in astonishment. Her heart would soar, and she'd grin giddily, a lopsided, boyish smile.

As it was, she stared at King Jonathon as he grinned that lopsided smile at her. Confusion muddled her otherwise keen brain. Jonathon continued talking. "But beauty doesn't mean you have to be ashamed of yourself, either. Or punish yourself by refusing to love another after your heart's been broken. And it certainly doesn't give you the right to play with another's feelings." His gaze penetrated her skin, and she shivered under her thin spring nightdress.

"Jon?" she whispered, puzzled and slightly dazed. "What are you talking about?"

The king of Tortall beamed at his queen triumphantly. Then his face changed, as he smiled slyly at her. "Would you like to find out, Highness?" He winked at her.

_Winked at her. _

Thayet was so astonished that she scrambled backwards, putting as much distance between the suddenly transformed king and herself as possible. Unfortunately, there's only so much space on a bed, even a large royal one, and she tumbled off in a jumble of long legs and bed sheets. After a little kicking and yanking, she popped her head out, jaw perpetually dropped.

Jonathon's head peeked over the bed, eyes twinkling at her in her VERY undignified state. "Hello there," he said cheerfully.

Thayet gulped. "Urk?" she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she gazed up at him. "Jonathon, I thought… it was obvious you were in love with Alanna… I thought…"

"Hush," Jonathon said, gently patronizing. He leaned forward, face coming very close to hers. They were just about to kiss when Thayet pulled away, her thoughts suddenly clicking into place. Oh. So that was what he wanted.

"No," she snapped, leaping at him and tackling him across the bed. He landed on his back, Thayet sitting on his stomach and refusing to move.

"Thayet?" he gasped, floundering. "What are you doing?"

"Don't talk to me," she snapped, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "You keep sending me mixed messages. First, you don't want to talk, and now you're all over me like an animal. I'm no sarden idiot, Jon. I know the difference between animalistic desire and the fulfilling love of a man for a woman. I'm not some barmaid who'll tumble into your bed at your beck and call." She stopped, panting.

Jon was scrutinizing her, a serious look on his handsome face. Then, before she could react, he'd grabbed her hands, and flipped her over so she lay on her back staring up at him. His face loomed over hers, strands of his midnight black hair trailing across her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I haven't treated you as I should. And there's something I'd like to explain, but I may never be able to. The thing between Alanna and me? It's OVER. She realized it long ago, and I know it now too. Maybe I knew it would come to this before it even began. She was never the queen type. Not like you."

She wouldn't let him sweet-talk her, not even when her heart pounded rapidly at their close proximity. "And being 'the queen type' is a bad thing?" she asked guardedly.

He sighed. "You like being difficult, don't you?" (Not unlike Kalasin, but Jon wouldn't make the connection/observation until years down the road, when the outspoken tot finally found her screeching voice). He continued. "You know, Alanna and I started being lovers, I was less mature. I may have seemed confident on the outside, but inside, I was shaking. I really didn't know if I could be a king. But after I met you, even after our first meeting, something started changing. I don't know if it was your story or your confidence of your bravery in face of unbearable odds, but something about you made me think. And it wasn't just your beauty. So Alanna may have been the first woman I loved, but you're the one I'll love forever, even when I'm so angry I want to blast Tortall to pieces."

He paused, only to hear something that sounded remotely like sniggering. He stared down incredulously as Thayet grabbed a pillow to hide her laughing. But her whole body shook with it, and tears of mirth streamed down her cheeks. "You're laughing?" he cried.

Thayet wiped her eyes. "It's just… you said it like you meant it," she explained. "Like you were serious!"

He growled in frustration. "What is it going to take to prove to you I'm serious?"

"Blast Tortall to pieces?" Thayet's voice was casual, and she smirked when he stared at her. Then it struck him that she'd been teasing him.

"So you believe me?" he asked, relieved.

Thayet was so happy that she couldn't contain her glee. "Of course I do, Jon!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him towards her. "And I'm so happy I can't stand it!"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forcefully. Finally, she let him, responding with the self-giving love of a wife to her husband. Their souls connected on the level Thayet had once envied Alanna and George.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

"I love you too," he answered, and her heart soared like an eagle. Finally, she could believe him. Thayet rested her head against Jon's chest and inhaled his scent. Now she wasn't only Queen of Tortall. Thayet _jian _Wilima was now the official Queen of the King's heart.

She smiled.

And she could make his life as miserable as she wanted, and he could only blast Tortall to pieces at the very worst.

But of course she wouldn't do _that. _

She giggled.

"What're you laughing at?" Jon asked, staring at his wife suspiciously.

"Who, me?" she asked innocently. "Nothing."


End file.
